


Dewy Dawn of Memory

by slipsthrufingers



Category: Fables - Willingham
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-21
Updated: 2009-12-21
Packaged: 2017-10-04 21:44:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/34433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slipsthrufingers/pseuds/slipsthrufingers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A flu is going around the Farm and ravaging Wolf Manor. Snow remembers something she's forgotten.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dewy Dawn of Memory

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lost_constant](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lost_constant/gifts).



***

The cubs get it first, just like they always do. One gets the sniffles from hanging about with the other animals and kids up at the Farm, and then he sneezes on his sister, who shares a bath with her other sister, and so on. Soon enough Snow is stuck with a household of sick, miserable children who wake her up in the middle of the night, coughing and sneezing with fevers that don't break and not enough cough medicine.

"...At least Ghost can't get sick." Snow says quietly into the phone to Bigby. She's finally gotten them all to bed and he's down in South America with Cinderella on some reconnaissance mission. Snow wishes, in that over-tired, mentally exhausted sort of way that it was Bigby who was the one who had to look after the six rheumy cubs, and that she was the one who got to go on glamourous adventures, as if the physical danger he put himself in constantly paled in comparison to doling out cough medicine and tissues and motherly comfort.

"I'll be home in two days. We're almost done here." He inhales deeply, and she knows he's puffing away on one of those disgusting cigarettes. She wishes silently that he was doing that next to her instead.

"I know." She sighs, resting her head on his pillow, breathing in deeply. She'll wait until he's back until she washes the sheets again. "They're asleep now, they should be right after a good night's sleep."

"I'm sorry for leaving you alone with all that."

"No, no. It's all right." She insists. "I'm just tired."

He makes a huffing sound on the other end of the phone. In the background, she thinks she heard Cindy's voice. "You sound it." He said. "Listen. You should just go to sleep. I'll call Rose and get her to come and check on the kids and you tomorrow morning."

"Okay." She mumbles into the phone, closing her eyes against the pillow. "Stay safe."

"I will. I love you."

"I love you too."

She barely has the chance to click the phone off and put it back in its holder before exhaustion overtakes her. The next thing she knows is that something is tugging at her feet.

Snow groans. "Snow, honey, wake up." Her sister says quietly, moving away to push open the blinds. It's brighter outside than Snow expects, and she reluctantly pulls herself up.

Something pulls at her feet. "Snow..."

Snow blinks her eyes. They feel stubborn, like they don't want to open, and there is a fogginess in her head that doesn't bode well. A fuzzy figure with fire-engine red hair and a playful look stands at the end of her bed, gently prodding her heels.

It's a second before Snow remembers why Bigby isn't snoring next to her and why Rose is standing at the end of the bed. It's another second before she figures out that the first bit took her just that little bit too long to remember, and to realise her head feels abnormally fuzzy, like it's full of baby wipes and fairy floss. "I think I might be getting sick." She grumbles to her sister, pushing herself up into a reluctant sitting position.

"Yeah, I'm not surprised." Rose crosses her arms across her plaid shirt, short red hair sticking out like a fiery red halo about her head. "You could've called me last night. I would've come down to help, you know that."

Snow rubs her face and swings her legs out the side of the bed. She doesn't actually feel that bad, now she thinks about it. She's had worse. "And get you sick?" She asked, as she stood up and stretched out the tight muscles that cramped up all along her back.

"Pssh." Rose says with a dismissive wave, as Snow entered the en-suite. Rose continues to chat through the door as Snow sits down on the toilet. "Whatever. Bigby had the right idea anyway. The cubs are up and eating breakfast. They're all a bit snotty, but they look fine to me, though Blossom could probably do with a few more hours sleep, maybe another dose or two of Day-Quill."

Snow frowns and checks her watch, but it's obviously still on her nightstand. It must be later than she thought it was, if Rose already had the kids up and eating. "What time is it?"

"Eight. Barely a sleep in, so don't you go feeling guilty."

Snow flushes the toilet and washes her hands, quickly filling the glass that holds their toothbrushes to quickly down a glass of water. "You should go home before you catch this."

Rose is waiting just outside and is holding out her satin dressing gown so that Snow can just slip into it. It was one she'd bought on her honeymoon in Paris. "I had a cold last week," Rose says, as Snow slips her arms into the sleeves, "The cubs probably caught it from me. Or they caught it from someone I gave it to at least."

"Thanks for that. I owe you one." Snow says, tying the belt tight around her waist.

"No problemo." Rose grins. "Now let's get you something to eat. I already have a pot of tea on for you."

The tea is warm and soothing, and with a good meal in her belly she makes it all the way through to lunch time before the flu properly grabs a hold of her and kicks her in the gut. By that stage, Rose has already told her three times to just go back to bed, and every time Snow has insisted that she is fine. Eventually, Rose gives up hinting, and bribes the children with chocolate into bullying Snow into the bedroom where she can get some proper rest. By the time she's through the door, she's already given up protesting. God her sister is stubborn. She falls down onto the bed, curling up into a ball and with one slipper still on she falls into a feverish dream.

 

She opens her eyes slowly. Large hands are gently untying the laces on her boots, gently loosening the ties before slipping the large, new shoes gently off her swollen feet.

"Ooh." She groans, as Bigby strips her feet of the bulky woolen socks as well, and gently begins rubbing the pads of his thumbs into the sore cracks between her toes. "That feels lovely." She says, leaning back against the foam plastic mattress.

"You should've let me carry you." He says gruffly, but quietly, not taking his hands from her feet. He's just close enough that she can smell faint cigarettes, even though he hasn't lit up once since they left Manhattan. "I don't mind."

"How am I supposed to get better if I rely on you all the time?" She says slowly, finding words a little difficult to form as his fingers rub out the kinks in the arches of her feet, gently moving to massage her ankles.

"It does no good to over-exert yourself either." Bigby takes his hands off her legs briefly as he kicks off his own boots and slides a little further into the tent. Before she can protest (not that she much wants to) his hands are gently lifting her up into a sitting position, so he can rub the tension from her shoulders.

Snow lets him sit her up leaning her head forward so he can better get at her stiff neck. "You're so protective." She murmurs, "I'm not made of glass, you know."

He gently pulls the elastic from her dark black hair, and it falls down over her shoulders, though with a straight kink making it stick out in strange directions. "Is it so awful to let yourself be cared for every now and then?"

"You're not exactly the caring type." She says, though there is no menace in her voice. His fingers tangle in her hair, and suddenly she feels as though she is made entirely of jelly. She wants to tell him just how good this feels, how wonderful it is to be touched so gently, so tenderly, like she hasn't been touched for so long, but all that she manages to croak out is a soft groan.

"I am for some." He whispers, close to her ear, then he bends down to kiss the soft patch of skin just below her earlobe.

She shudders a little, as a strong spark of desire dances over her skin, goosebumps prickling up all over. It must be the soft rub of his stubble that did it, she thinks to herself. The way it stings just a little, just at first, and in such stark contrast to the softness of his lips. Then there is the way he lingers, breathing in deeply, as though memorising every facet of her scent.

Snow turns her head towards his, blue eyes taking in the longing expression on his face, written in the furrow of his brow, and the stiff muscle in his jaw. She leans over and kisses him gently on the edge of his lips. There is a soft, silent pause between the two as they make eye contact, then she shifts and twists around so she can get the angle right this time and kiss him properly. Bigby's hand gently supports her lower back, pulling her a little closer, and his tongue gently probes at the edge of her lips. She isn't surprised that he tastes like coffee and cigarettes, but she is surprised at how comforting she finds it.

She has one hand buried in his own thick hair, and the other holding fast to his arm when she feels the back of her shirt rise up a little, and she feels his hot hand brush the cool white skin of her back. There is nothing she wants more at this very moment but to feel those warms hands everywhere, but she hesitates, and slowly pulls back.

He looks at her inquisitively, and suddenly she feels nervous, like a little girl lost in the forest, looking for guidance and protection. "Will you..." She asks thickly. "Will you promise to be careful with me?" Some part of her finds the irony in searching for care and comfort from the monster that terrorised so many others just like herself.

"Of course." He says immediately, looking her straight in the eyes. She can tell when he is lying-- it was one of those human skills he'd never quite picked up completely, or at least if he had, she could still always pick it. He isn't lying now. She rises up onto her knees before lifting one leg gently over him to straddle his lap.

"I haven't done this in a while." She says cautiously. "So tell me if.."

"I know." He said, cutting her off with a quick kiss, slipping his other hand underneath her shirt, gently pulling it up a little, his fingers brushing against the sensitive skin of her belly. It tingles delightfully, and some muscles deep inside her tense in anticipation. " Just relax. It'll be all right."

 

A hand gently lifts her foot, removing the stubborn slipper to place it on the ground. If he had left it at that, she probably would've continued to sleep, but soon she feels someone gently lifting her hips to strip her of the jeans she had also fallen asleep in.

"Mmm." She says with a frown, "When did you get in?" She asks dully, her throat dry and rough.

"Five minutes ago." Bigby says quietly, tossing her jeans over the side of their wash basket, pulling off his own pants and shirt in the process.

"I was having a dream.. before you woke me."

"Yeah? Sorry." He says quietly, "What was it about."

"I can't remember." Snow shrugs, stretching stiffly before sitting up. "Can you get me a glass of water?"

"I never remember my dreams. I wouldn't worry about it." Bigby says as he enters the bathroom without turning on the light. He returns a few seconds later with a glass full of water. He takes her hand and guides her to it in the dark. Snow takes a large sip and it feels as though almost instantly the tension in her throat is eased-- not healed completely, of course, but it's at least tolerable.

"'I have had a dream, past the wit of man to say what dream it was.'" She mutters more to herself than to him, as she places the empty glass down on the bedside table.

Bigby shifts around to the other side of the bed, pulling back the covers to slip in next to her. "Is that Shakespeare?" He asks, sidling close to her, kissing the sensitive spot just below her earlobe, wrapping his arm around her waist.

"Yeah. _A Midsummer Night's Dream_." She says, closing her eyes once more, glad that he's home.

"Heh. Well. If it's anything like all your other dreams, it probably wasn't anything special anyway. You were probably shoe shopping with Reynard."

Snow chuckled. She curled into Bigby's side, placing her arm across his own, holding him tightly there. "I missed you." She said quietly.

"Yeah. Me too."


End file.
